


Carry Rain or Usher Storm

by problematic_pleasures



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Cousin Incest, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst, Mostly Canon Compliant, Post Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 19:57:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13934214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/problematic_pleasures/pseuds/problematic_pleasures
Summary: T'Challa and Erik watch a sunset.





	Carry Rain or Usher Storm

**Author's Note:**

> hey! so i've now seen the movie four times, and one of those times was today. i've been a bit stuck on _a truth universally acknowledged_ so i turned to the prompts sitting in my inbox on tumblr! kitsunesongs prompted "t'cherik watching the sunset together," and this happened! it's a little angsty, but not really. just a look at if erik survived post-canon and they were able to put everything behind them. a fun little one-off.
> 
> enjoy! comments and kudos give me life!!

T’Challa’s attention is drawn by the soft, hollow taps against stone. It’s faint, and distant, but his heightened senses pick it up swiftly. He looks over to Shuri and Okoye, both standing at the door of the elevator, waiting for him. He waves off their curious glances and approaches the cliff side to look down at the great panther protruding from the cliff wall. Again, the sound is barely-there, but the more he focuses the louder it becomes.

“Brother?” Shuri calls out, and the tapping stops. 

T’Challa holds up a hand and continues to leer over the edge. “I will be there shortly. Go down without me.” He distantly hears Shuri huff, but Okoye murmurs something appropriately scolding, then they’re gone. Carefully, he slips over the edge of the cliff and takes to the rocky ledges with all the skill Bast has gifted him. It’s not easier—if anything, it likely would’ve been smarter to take the elevator to Shuri’s lab first, rather than scale the side of a mountain. 

The man waiting for him beneath the panther statue has that effect on T’Challa, though: act first, think later. It was dangerous in the beginning, but now it mostly makes the king foolish, much to the amusement of their friends and family. At first, it was cause for concern (T’Challa cannot count the times someone pulled him aside, asking  _“my king, are you absolutely sure?”_ ); now, it’s something of a running joke in Wakanda, and likely all over the globe.

T’Challa lands smoothly beside one of the panther’s great paws and takes a moment to catch his breath. A few yards away, Erik sits at the edge of the cliff and his legs have resumed swinging, tapping the rock every other beat. He’s dressed in his usual, fascinating combination of traditional Wakandan garb and more American styles: the clash of jeans with vibranium-infused prints is as jarring as ever, yet endearing as well.

T’Challa approaches cautiously, but knows his lover heard him the moment he started to climb down.

“Sup, cuz.” Erik says without looking back. His head continues to bob slightly, and if T’Challa listens closely he can hear the music filtering from the headphones Erik’s using. One is tucked into his ear, the other clenched in his first. 

“Erik,” T’Challa greets softly. He sits beside him, crossing his legs instead of swinging them over the edge. 

Erik’s eyes stay trained on the sunset far beyond them. It’s early enough in the evening that the sky is still mostly blue above them. Only the horizon is painted in streaks of oranges and yellows, bright and fetching. It’s a far different sunset than the one they saw last time they sat here, together. T’Challa swallows a shudder and lets his arm nudge Erik’s slightly.

“Yeah, s’a little depressin’, ain’t it?”

T’Challa hums in response.

“Just can’t get that day outta my head, you know? It was the first Wakandan sunset I ever seen, thought it was gonna be the last. I keep thinkin’ none of the others will compare, but every night—?”

“You come out here _every night_?” T’Challa asks. He knows that’s not the case. Not only would he be able to tell, but there are plenty of nights where they are both _far_ too busy to be sneaking off at odd hours.

Erik laughs. “Alright, alright, not _every_ night.”

“But often.”

“Often, yeah.” Erik nods. T’Challa wonders what nights he’s missed Erik leaving, wonders how he would’ve missed that. “I keep thinkin’ they won’t compare. That it was _just_ that one, but I’m always wrong.”

“There are worse things to be wrong about.”

Erik laughs again. “Yeah.” He leans back and braces his weight on his hands. “You know, sometimes I think m’dreaming? I think I’m still just a punkass kid in Oakland, sleeping on someone’s floor. Gonna wake up any minute now and this is all gonna fade away.”

T’Challa reaches for Erik and takes his hand. It doesn’t skew his lover’s balance; the power of Bast and the heart-shaped herb still coursing through him see to that. Erik doesn’t pull away, either. He holds T’Challa’s hand tight, even if he still won’t look at him.

“This is real, Erik.”

“I know,” Erik says, assured and firm. “Just still hard to believe, sometimes. It’s the sunsets, man. If my daddy hadn’t talked ‘bout ‘em so much, I don’t think it’d be this bad.”

T’Challa smiles sadly.

“Nothing I ever dreamed of compared to this.” Erik says after a while of silence. “Cuz I used to. Used to think about this city every god damn day. Not even—not to take the throne. Not to plan my revenge. Just thought of it like I thought about my dad. Missed it. Homesick for a place I’d never been.”

“You should’ve always been here.”

Erik rolls his eyes at T’Challa’s tone. “Thought you were done apologizing?” He asks with a teasing glint in his eyes. There’s wetness there, too, but T’Challa refrains from commenting. “M’here now.”

“Yes.” T’Challa answers slowly when Erik doesn’t continue. “And I am glad for it.”

Erik nods like he’s made a decision. He brings their linked hands to his lips and brushes a surprisingly tender kiss across T’Challa’s knuckles. “Think it’s finally starting to sink in.”

“Of course it would start to sink in before you’re due to leave.”

This time, the grin Erik aims at him is purely smug, delighted. “You gonna miss me?”

T’Challa bears his teeth in a playful snarl. “You know the answer to that.” This time, he tugs their linked hands to him and kisses the top of Erik’s hand, feeling the flex of his tendons beneath his lips. “I am pleased for you. I am excited to see what you will do. I am just regretful I cannot accompany with you.”

“Nakia will be there, it’ll be fine.”

T’Challa sighs against Erik’s hand, then lets it drop. “I do not want to go with because I do not trust you.” He reaches out and cups Erik’s jaw. Finally, with a little tug, Erik looks at him. “It is because I will miss you,” he repeats.

“Yeah, yeah,” Erik says. To a stranger his tone would sound dismissive but T’Challa knows this voice all too well. He leans over without hesitation and kisses Erik firmly on the mouth. Erik relents to him for a moment, his lips falling open, but it doesn’t laugh. They sway perilously on the edge of the cliff beneath the panther, and T’Challa traces the gold teeth in Erik’s mouth with a shiver.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” Erik admits as the kiss breaks.

T’Challa grins this time. “I know.”

 


End file.
